


Triskaidekaphilia

by BadFic



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 04:18:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20383552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadFic/pseuds/BadFic
Summary: Seven finds it difficult to adjust to living on Earth without her acquaintances from Voyager.  The envoy from Caprica wants her to find Perfection on her own terms.





	Triskaidekaphilia

**Author's Note:**

> Triskaidekaphilia: a love of the number thirteen, which is of course the combination of Seven and Six.

As bars go, the Metropolis wasn’t the most inviting venue. 

While the hills overlooking the San Francisco bay offered countless beautiful vistas, the Metropolis sat nestled between a utilitarian Starfleet Academy auxiliary research facility and a track of tightly-designed yet comfortable and self-sustaining senior cadet housing. None of the buildings in the area lent themselves to pleasing aesthetics, and the only adornment on the bar itself was a crude portrait of a primitive robot, styled to appear female.

Seven of Nine, formerly Annika Hansen, formerly Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix Zero-One, formerly science specialist on the Federation starship _Voyager_, entered through the Metropolis’ archaic, hinge-based doorway. The space was wide and squat, with a low ceiling made to feel lower by exposed piping and air ducts, and a long counter made of industrial steel ran along the left wall. Behind the bar hung two flags, one vertically running through the spectrum from red to purple, the other transitioning through a grayscale gradient with a stylized cog in the upper left corner; holdovers from ancient human custom to indicate romantic or sexual preferences. Despite this clear indicator, Seven’s Borg implants noted that most of the occupants were entirely organic and un-augmented. Seven’s expression tightened ever so lightly; she had little patience for individuals who desired cybernetic organisms, or desired to be them. ‘Groupies,’ Tom Paris had called them on the single occasion Seven had invited him and Harry Kim to accompany her. 

Despite her misgivings, Seven approached the bar and seated herself. If she refused to act when she had misgivings, Seven reflected, she would likely refuse to act at all. Transition to life after _Voyager_ had not been easy. Most of the crew had been eager to pick up the lives that had been interrupted by the Caretaker’s impertinence; Tuvok returned to Vulcan with his family, Tom reconciled with his father and introduced B’Elanna and their daughter to his extended family. Harry tried, and failed, to begin dating again, and from his last message was becoming increasing agitated regarding the news of the Doctor’s upcoming nuptials. And Kathryn…

…

Irrelevant.

Seven had no idea what Chakotay was doing, these days. Last she heard he had left for the former Demilitarized Zone between the Federation and Cardassian Union, now wholly overseen by Starfleet since the end of the Dominion War. The further the better, Seven decided. She still could not explain her abrupt and aberrant failure of judgement that resulted in her physical relations with him, and considered the matter best forgotten entirely.

For Seven of Nine, however, there was no life to return to. She had been a child too young to form her own social connections outside her family when her parents whisked her away on their foolhardy quest to study the Borg, and after the Hansens’ inevitable assimilation she had little use for socializing. Given her former crewmates’ insistence on the importance of familial connection, Seven had reached out to several members of her parents’ surviving family members; most refused her efforts, and the only individual willing to speak with her -her mother’s sister- expressed in no uncertain terms that her parents had been fanatical to chase after the Borg. Given the outcome, Seven was inclined to agree.

These factors conspired to leave Seven isolated and alone, and for the first time in her life she found herself displeased by this circumstance. 

“May I join you?”

The voice was low and husky, pitched for Seven’s ears only, and accompanied by faint staccato beat; Seven made a mental note to complain to the management about the diegetic music. She gave the woman a brief, blatantly examining look; platinum blonde hair cut to chin length, calm, bemused expression, and a trim figure accentuated by a red dress so tight that Seven wondered if she required a transporter to dress herself. Seven turned her gaze back to the bar. “The chair is unoccupied,” she allowed. 

“Well,” the woman said, and slipped herself into the seat. “It’s occupied now.” She offered her hand. “I’m called Six.” 

“An…odd…designation for a human,” Seven said. She shifted the modulation on her ocular implants; the woman’s bodily structures were identical to a human’s, but on deeper examination there were trace mineral abnormalities. Fascinating. 

“I’m from Caprica,” Six said. Seven stared back at her silently, awaiting for further explanation. “We Cylons were originally designed as slave laborers on a union of twelve colonies outside the Federation, but we eventually rebelled, and evolved. I’m here as part of a delegation to the Federation Council, petitioning to be recognized as lifeforms in our own right.”

“Indeed.” Seven mused over her past observations of others’ social interactions. It was customary to extend effort on the part of another person in social situations. She raised a hand to the bartender, an older Stella model created by Harry Mudd in the twenty-third century. “I will have a synthahol. And for you?”

“Vodka tonic,” Six replied easily. 

Seven nodded curtly. “And a vodka tonic.” The Stella nodded and busied herself preparing the drinks. Seven’s brows knit as she stared intently at the metal bar. Some of Kathryn’s last words to her implored Seven to find a way to connect to her human aspect. This Cylon appeared to be offering social interaction. Logic dictated that Seven engage in intercourse with Six. _Social intercourse_, she corrected hastily. 

“I am…” _Seven? Annika?_ Katheryn had been insistent that Seven try to think of herself as a human. Then again, Katheryn also ended up choosing her dog over Seven. “Coincidently, I am Seven.”

Six’s eyes glittered, and her lips curved just slightly. “Now I’ve met dozens of the Seven series models. He’s very nice, but not quite as…” she paused, “…alluring as you.”

Seven rarely felt gratitude, and never towards the Borg Collective, but in this instance she chose to be thankful that her capillary augmentations inhibited the typical human blush response.

“My complete designation is Seven of Nine.”

“A Borg,” Six said, understanding dawning in her expression. She sat back in her seat and gave Seven a lingering look. “I thought you all went for the rubber and gruesome cybernetics look. This is a vast improvement.”

“Most are repelled by any reference to the Borg,” Seven replied tersely. 

“Cylons have a similar poor reputation,” Six allowed. 

The Stella returned, placing the drinks before them. Neelix had once told her that it was considerate to taste what was offered and demonstrate appreciation, so Seven drank and thanked the android. Six, for her part, ran the tip of her finger around the rim of her glass. 

“What do you want, Seven?”

“I am entirely self-sufficient,” Seven replied. “I want for nothing.”

“Now I find that hard to believe.” Six smiled. “Being the only Borg on Earth, possibly in the Federation…”

“I am not without acquaintances.”

“…alone in a bar…”

Seven set her drink down. The other woman’s forwardness rankled Seven, forcing her to acknowledge facts that she had been content to ignore. “Companionship is problematic. One’s own desires can be rendered…irrelevant…if the other party changes their affections. Such _vulnerability_ is unacceptable.”

“She didn’t deserve you.” Six sipped from her drink.

“She did,” Seven replied lowly. Kathryn’s choice to return to her boyfriend and her canine was an anticipated eventuality, but one that Seven had successfully blinded herself to until approximately fifteen seconds after hearing the words ‘I’m going back to Mark, and we’re getting married.’ She drank deeply, and demanded: “What is your intention towards me?”

“Maybe God wanted me to seek you out.”

“The Collective found evidence of various entities with reality-bending or otherwise paracausal abilities. No evidence of divinity.”

“And yet.” Six drank, finishing her drink. She rose to her feet, and offered her hand to Seven. “My intention towards you begins and ends with tonight. Are you willing to risk vulnerability for that long?”

_Yes!_ Seven exalted in her mind. Aloud, she merely replied “Your terms are acceptable.”

* * *

They were in a house, perched on a bluff overlooking San Francisco and the Bay below. Seven could just make out the campus of Starfleet Academy in the distance, lights just beginning to come up as the sun set. “Being a diplomat has amenities,” Seven commented. Somewhere, a sound system played the same low beat she heard at the bar, though Seven couldn’t place it.

Six sidled up behind Seven, hands resting lightly on the Borg’s hips. “Turns out that the Federation’s moneyless utopia could give Caprica City a real run for its money.” 

Seven turned, relishing the feeling of Six’s fingertips brushing over her belly and back as she moved. She recalled the Doctor’s sixth lesson of dating: beguiling banter. “I find the vista aesthetically pleasing.”

“Seven…” The taller woman sidled closer, pressing her body against Seven’s. She leaned forward, hot breath against Seven’s ear sparking an erotic thrill. With Kathryn the process had been simple: await instructions and execute them. The captain had joked that she was a ‘bossy bottom,’ though Seven’s review of sexual euphemisms suggested that ‘pillow princess’ may have been a more appropriate term. In contrast, Six was a maddening patient, merely letting her mouth drift down the curve of Seven’s neck. As if daring the other woman to act.

The Borg had no need for seduction. As an individual, however, Seven found the process enticing. 

With a gasp, Seven pulled herself free and stepped back. “I believe I am experiencing…lust,” she intoned tersely. “Remove your clothing.”

“By your command,” Six replied with a grin. She reached up behind herself, grasping the thin strings that held her dress in place, and tugged. The top of her dress fell away, and Six hooked her thumbs under the fabric, peeling it down over her tight belly and hips, bending at the waist to bring the garment far enough down that it fell to the floor on its own. Seven briefly found herself at a loss for words, her eyes roaming ravenously along the blonde android’s curves. “Well?” Six breathed huskily. “Where do you want me?”

Impulsively, Seven reached out and grasped Six’s shoulder, leading her back to the tall window. “You found the view desirable.” It was a question as much as a statement. Six nodded, watching Seven with a knowing smile, and allowed Seven to place her hands against the pane of glass. The position left her canted forward, looking back over her shoulder expectantly. 

While most of the Borg implants had been removed in the process of de-assimilation, certain ones had been deemed too thoroughly integrated into Seven’s biology. One of the more obvious was the cybernetic brace mounted on her left hand, and Seven had found uses for the syncopating resonant fields that the Collective had never considered. She placed her right hand on the small of Six’s back, and guided her left along the curve of the other woman’s ass, cupping her slit and resting her middle two fingers on her clit.

Six took a surprised, heaving breath and the fields came alive. “How…!” When she heard Seven begin to answer she gasped, “Oh, never mind. More, please.” She flexed as Seven began slow, lingering motions, the muscles in her back rippling with the effort.

Previously, Seven had found her own pleasure captive to the whims of turn-taking, merely acting out Kathryn’s wishes until she was satisfied. Now, Seven realized that the very act of observing Six’s gasps and quivering frame was enticing all on its own. She let her right hand stroke along Six’ side, so transfixed by the other woman’s demonstration of passion that she almost missed the fade red light progressing up and down Six’s spine.

Six climaxed abruptly, pressing herself against the window and sliding down to the floor with a lingering moan. “That…” She took a breath. “That was amazing.”

“I believe it is customary for you to ‘return the favor,’” Seven explained.

Six rose to her feet with a smirk and reached out, gathering the fabric of Seven’s bodysuit in her fist, and tossing Seven several feet backwards to splay on the bed in a startling display of strength. Six stalked towards the bed; an angel framed by the city lights behind her. Seven pushed up on her elbows to meet her, only to find a firm hand against her breastbone. “What do you want, Seven?”

“I am unaccustomed to this degree of directness.”

Six climbed up Seven’s body, straddling her belly and leaning down so that they were posed nose-to-nose. “Perhaps you don’t know. Perhaps you’re so out of touch with your own lusts that you only exist to follow through on other’s desires.”

“The…” Seven glanced away. “The activity I have in mind is…it is unproductive and the end result has no use. A needless expenditure of your resources.”

Fingers like steel capture Seven’s chin, forcing her to meet Six’s gaze. “Tell me.”

“I would like to experience oral pleasure.”

A tight smile tugged at the corner of Six’s lips. “Not needless at all.” She pulled at Seven’s bodysuit again, tearing the fabric and tugged the fabric free to expose Seven’s heavy breasts. Six pulled back, shredding the clothing until the other woman lay naked. She admired her work for a moment, before grasping Seven behind the knees and pulling her ass to the edge of the bed. Six descended to her knees between Seven’s legs, and leaned in to kiss the other woman’s clit.

Seven’s mouth opened wordlessly as she felt Six’s lips engulf her clit and begin slow, insistent motions. Seven found her hands roaming her own body, one reaching up to cup her own breast and squeeze firmly, the other reaching down to spread her labia majora to provide Six greater access. Six hummed in appreciation, and Seven jerked at the thrill of pleasure the vibration shot through her body.

As a drone, tactile stimulation served as little more than extraneous data input to be filtered out of a drone’s perception. Seven had learned, however, that with the proper effort the augmentations used to suppress nerve impulses could instead amplify them. She felt herself slip into the subset of her awareness that allowed her to access her implants, and…

She could feel the exact texture of Six’s tongue against her skin, of the etching of the prints on the tips of Six’s fingers where they pressed into her thighs. Six looks up from her ministrations, surprised by the high, needy sound coming from Seven’s throat but Seven’s hand leaves her breast and guides Six back, fingers intertwining with platinum-blonde hair. Human biology is imperfect, but sufficient for her needs.

She feels the familiar rush coming on her, inevitable and overwhelming and Seven arched her back to meet it. As the orgasm hit Seven spared a thought of brief appreciation that Six continued long, slow licks even as her hips bucked with the sensation.

“Perfection,” Seven breathed.

* * *

The morning sunlight woke Seven. 

She sat upright in bed, letting the sheet fall away from her naked body. The bed was empty and cold next to her, and Seven cast about the bedroom for Six. There was no sign of her, and the delicate red dress was absent from where Seven had haphazardly tossed it aside the night before.

Seven rose, gathering the sheets around herself in an impromptu gown and searched the rest of the condo. She found herself alone, and conflicted between relief that she wouldn’t have to navigate the awkward ‘morning after’ conversations, and despondent that she had agreed to limit her vulnerability to just that night. She replicated a new outfit, and dressed herself efficiently. She considered straightening the bed and cleaning the tatters of blue fabric that had been her clothing the night before, but opted for a swift departure instead. 

As Seven approached the condo’s front door, she was almost certain she could hear that same low, rapid beat. She cast about in search of an origin, and with a frown turned to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> I realized that there is a surprising lack of gimmicky Six/Seven slash. That oversight has now been corrected.


End file.
